<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>dance in the middle of the fighting by OldMagpie (MagpieMorality)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135554">dance in the middle of the fighting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie'>OldMagpie (MagpieMorality)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>skip to the good part [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Regency, Bets &amp; Wagers, Competitive Ballroom Dancing, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, No Period-Typical Homophobia, Unresolved Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:00:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter's Ball is off to a good start for Nicolò - his aunt and uncle are happy hosts and the attendance is high. Even better; there's no sign of his least favourite society bachelor, Yusuf al-Kaysani. He looks forward to a night off from their bickering and sniping and all-out, polite warfare.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>As if that was going to last.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>skip to the good part [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Installment two of the enemies but make it sexy series! This time we're back in history because I'm a sucker for a good old-fashioned outfit, and because <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1OlqxAH3yw&amp;t=787s">this youtube video</a> was just <i>so</i> very inspiring...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The ballroom sweeps with gowns and tails. The music swells and falls and carries the dancers around and around, dizzying to watch. Murmurs and laughter and the click of hard-soled shoes bring the volume up further.</p><p>Nicolò lets it all wash over him. From the edge, just aside from the doorway where rich couples glittering with treasures worth more than his entire staff's wages for the month are being announced, arriving in spectacular fashion to the event of the year. He manages to choke back a sigh and turns for the table of delicacies, nabbing a few little sweetmeats to keep him going. He is here for the duration, after all, and it will be a long night, all told.</p><p>Because Nicolò may not rest until the last guest has gone. Seeing as it is his uncle and aunt's house they are standing in.</p><p>At least he hadn't been asked to help host the damn thing.</p><p>"What is this vision I see before me?"</p><p>"Oh no…" Nicolò groans, turning to see - naturally - his least favourite person in the entire country and possibly beyond, stood at his side reaching for his own share of sweets. "I could have sworn I specifically requested they leave you <em> off </em> the guestlist."</p><p>Yusuf al-Kaysani smiles disingenuously back at him around a mouthful of parfait. "Even if you had - which I sorely doubt - they would have asked me to come anyway. I am a highly eligible bachelor, you see, and your aunt in particular is keen to ensure her parties have the highest attendance rate possible. Every mother in the city for the season has descended tonight for a chance at me, did you not hear?"</p><p>Nicolò makes a face and looks Yusuf over critically. He can find nothing to insult about the beautifully tailored waistcoat, shirt and coat that cling to Yusuf's shoulders and arms, nor the britches below - a shade darker than was properly appropriate but excitingly fashionable nonetheless. In lieu of offering back a critique he simply turns away to look at the crowd, an uninterested shrug all he leaves behind him.</p><p>He hears Yusuf chuckle. "I suppose it must be much the same for you then. Perhaps I should indeed attempt to take every single one of these lovely ladies and gentlemen up on their offers to dance, if only so that I might caution them against ever trying for <em> your </em> hand."</p><p>"And what is that supposed to mean?" Nicolò retorts, rounding on him. Yusuf meets him, never one to back down, refusing to allow Nicolò to take ground between them. "Pray tell, what does the eligible and shockingly arrogant Yusuf al-Kaysani know of me that so troubles him?"</p><p>"Beyond your frankly mediocre personality?" Nicolò's growl of rage prompts a wider grin from the other man. "Well there's your terrible dancing; that scowl that never seems to leave your face; your entirely uninteresting hobbies; and who could forget the sloppy way you handle a sword? I mean really Nicolò, it is as though you are <em>trying</em> to be as unappealing as possible."</p><p>"Don't be so familiar - we are not friends," Nicolò snaps. Yusuf plucks a glass of something bubbling from a passing waiter and sips at it, dark eyes narrowed on Nicolò over the glass while Nicolò seethes helplessly. He would love to draw his blade here and now and prove this fool wrong, but he left the damned thing upstairs in his rooms and it would be scandalous indeed if he were to cause a scene tonight. His aunt and uncle would be incredibly put out by such an affair at their prized Winter's Ball.</p><p>"Well I can hardly call you… what was your title, again?" Yusuf asks innocently, though he knows damn well. Nicolò's seething hits apoplectic rage at the final insult.</p><p>Before he does anything too inappropriate Nicolò removes himself from the situation. He's rather proud of himself for the mature decision, and soothes himself and his wounded pride as he proves himself to be the bigger man. He makes it to the other side of the ballroom, edging around the dancing, and then all of a sudden a hand wraps tightly around his elbow and tugs him into the fray. Nicolò yelps, stumbling to catch his footing. Before he even turns to his partner he focuses on getting his feet under him properly, finding the steps of the dance.</p><p>Yusuf smirks back at him when he looks up. "Terrible dancer. Didn't I say?"</p><p>"What are you <em> doing</em>?" Nicolò hisses, making his grip as tight and uncomfortable as possible on Yusuf's hand and blanching when Yusuf elbows his other hand up onto his shoulder while he takes Nicolò's waist. <em>Hang on</em>- "And why are you <em> leading</em>?"</p><p>"I am taller."</p><p>"And I am richer!"</p><p>"Well I am older, then."</p><p>"It is <em> my house</em>."</p><p>"Oh just hush and follow, we both know I'm the better dancer and that's all that really matters."</p><p>If only Nicolò could refute that but he has heard all the stories and has been in attendance at many of the parties that spawned them. Yusuf is not only a champion dancer but time is running out before their stalling and fighting will be thoroughly noticeable and the source of some truly premium gossip among society's elite. "I will lead on the next dance then," he grumbles, just to make himself feel better. It is the wrong thing to say.</p><p>That becomes clear when Yusuf quickly yanks him in to remove all distance between them, smug as the kitchen cat with a bowl of fresh cream. "'Next dance'? What is this - Nicolò di Genova requesting a slot on my dance card?"</p><p>"Nothing of the sort!" Nicolò gasps, an empty protest with his own words to stand against him. He shakes his head and turns his face away so he no longer has to stare at Yusuf from up quite so close at least, looking out at the dancers around them instead. There are more than a few jealous and disappointed looks being turned their way. So much for avoiding the gossip. "Look what you've done. The rumour mill will be mad for <em>weeks</em>. Couldn't you just pick a spouse as irritating as you are and settle down so I no longer have to deal with you?"</p><p>"Nicolò, you have never once managed to 'deal with me'. As for a spouse, ah but the life of a bachelor is so wild and free, is it not? Surely you agree - you are no closer to marriage than I am."</p><p>With the two of them being of a similar height their gait is steady and flows remarkably well. Unfortunately Yusuf leads them expertly, weaving through the other dancers with a light touch that guides Nicolò without him even really noticing. They step between long skirts and dodge outheld, clasped hands with ease, unerringly finding the next clear spot to move through.</p><p>It is true - Nicolò has avoided... perhaps not <em> quite </em> so many interested dance partners tonight as Yusuf will have to, but a significant number nonetheless. Partially because he despises the awkwardness of having to stand near to a stranger for so long making overtures of polite conversation. Partially because Nicolò is at least vaguely destined for a more political marriage at his family's behest. It might not even come to pass but he cannot help follow the little voice in his head that refuses to let him sully a potential future marriage with a previously lost love. Nicolò will not do that to his spouse- nor to himself. The sort of sordid dalliances he hears his peers get up to are futile and wasted time, through and through.</p><p>There are moments he envies the more exuberant young people he knows though.</p><p>"These years of ours are to be thoroughly relished," Yusuf says. Case in point.</p><p>Nicolò sneers at him and rolls his eyes in disgust. "You are such a pig. To do such things is to make a mockery of not only propriety but romance and love."</p><p>"What?" Yusuf laughs in surprise.</p><p>"It is base! And immoral, to roll around with someone before marriage and risk their reputation and your own. Do you not care for the consequences of your actions? Do you not care for loyalty and devotion and love? Do you not care for the person you will one day marry?"</p><p>Yusuf's face goes from incredulous to stony. He digs his fingers into the small of Nicolò's back painfully and leans close to hiss, Nicolò doing his best to lean away, nose wrinkled. "How dare you make such presumptions about what I do or do not do in my bed. As though I would treat anyone so callously!"</p><p>"And yet you are callous."</p><p>"<em>You</em>-!" Yusuf cuts himself off with a fierce glare, clenching his jaw tightly. He looks at Nicolò with disgust to match Nicolò's for him. "So <em> righteous</em>, aren't you. You're a child, Nicolò, to make assumptions and accusations like this. Grow up."</p><p>Nicolò flushes at the scolding but can't find anything to say in return, looking away and lifting his chin defensively instead. "And stop believing every rumour you hear, for the love of the heavens," Yusuf adds in a dark mutter, turning his own head the other way.</p><p>They dance through to the end of the song, at which point Nicolò moves to pull away while the guests clap each other and the players. Once again Yusuf catches him by surprise, not letting go but swapping their hold. This time he has a much more darkly wicked expression on his face, promising mischief that will no doubt only be fun for one of them.</p><p>No prizes for guessing who.</p><p>"What happened to 'how dare you' and 'grow up'?" Nicolò asks, eyeing him. The rest of the dancers around them mill, finding new partners or talking as they ready themselves to start the next dance. Yusuf glances up from rearranging their hands and his look makes Nicolò shiver.</p><p>"Oh I am still very angry, do not mistake me. But you said you would lead and I am more than happy to embarrass you for my own gain. At least while you are here with your foul expression no one will bother me."</p><p>"I wish <em> you </em> would not bother me."</p><p>"The feeling is entirely mutual."</p><p>"And yet…" Nicolò says, flexing his fingers meaningfully. Yusuf's hand shifts in his and he turns into the hold onto his waist with a graceful sway. Nicolò refuses to do more than allow his hand to brace perfectly properly on Yusuf's side. He absolutely does not look down.</p><p>Then Yusuf grins. "I promise I will leave you to your own miserable company, if you lead me well. But if not then you, as penance for your rudeness, will serve as my human shield for the remainder of the evening."</p><p>It is too tempting a deal to resist, even if Nicolò were capable of ever not rising to Yusuf's challenges.</p><p>"You're on."</p><p>The music shifts and speeds up into a quicker dancing reel. A slow, taunting smirk spreads over Yusuf's face and Nicolò steels his stirring uncertainty back into determination and sweeps him out onto the floor.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The problem, Yusuf has found, is that Nicolò is just a bit of a cock. Not the nice kind either - he walks around with a chip on his shoulder and those big green eyes always set to judgement mode. In the beginning Yusuf had wondered… but no. Nicolò was a cold bastard strutting around with his nose in the air and it is only a shame that he looks so good while doing it.</p><p>Sometimes Yusuf still - even now <em>years</em> after their first disastrous meeting - dreams of Nicolò saying yes where he had once said no. Dreams of what that might have led to. Dreams and wakes up hard and irritated with himself. The worst part is that they occasionally gets so bad as to affect his performance. In <em>bed</em>. Those times come and go and he can pass weeks without a hint of an issue whatsoever, but he has endured the humiliation of feeling thoroughly unaroused while in bed with a beautiful person enough times to hate it more than anything. Fortunately he is both generous and talented, and his reputation has been left as unscathed as his partners left satisfied.</p><p>Here and now though, he looks at Nicolò's grim face while they dance and he laughs. Nicolò scowls, as he is wont to do, and Yusuf only laughs more. "What?" Nicolò snaps at him, his hold faltering just a touch. Yusuf shrugs, keeping his smile but refusing to answer. "What?!" Nicolò demands.</p><p>"You look as though you are marching to your funeral. Cheer up, would you?"</p><p>"Grow up, cheer up, what more will you nag me to do?"</p><p>"I do not nag!" Yusuf objects hotly. "You are simply… a man with many faults in need of correction. No one else seems to want the job."</p><p>Nicolò bares his teeth and hisses out a feral sounding exclamation of frustration. "Why are you the way you are?"</p><p>"What, not to your taste?"</p><p>"Never!" Nicolò seems about this close to sticking his tongue out. Is it so wrong that Yusuf should enjoy the fun he is having, poking the bear until it snaps?</p><p>Yusuf raises an eyebrow at him, not really meaning anything by it apart from intending to be so obscure that Nicolò goes mad. It works, in a sense - the poor man loses their rhythm and they nearly crash into another dancing couple.</p><p>It doesn't matter how quickly he leads them back on track again; they both know that that's the bet well and truly lost. Nicolò's soft groan of dismay is music to Yusuf's ears.</p><p>"Well, well, well. I do believe that's your evening accounted for then. What a shame, I hope you didn't have any liaisons lined up?"</p><p>Nicky stiffens and steps away from him, too soon, before the dance is over. This time he gets lucky - Yusuf is highly surprised by the improper and premature departure and finds himself quickly abandoned on the dancefloor to flee after the other man, smiling and laughing for the other guests to see to hide his embarrassment, to pretend that this is all nothing but a game. it is in a sense, but appearances matter in their world. He rolls his eyes along with at least two older couples and pursues Nicolò out of the ballroom. Nicolò doesn't go far but he does duck into a parlour two hallways away, heading for the fully-stocked bar cart within. </p><p>"We made a deal, Nicolò," Yusuf reminds him when he catches up, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded. </p><p>“Hang your deal.”</p><p>“I may think you utterly reprehensible in many ways but I can at least admit that you are - usually - a man of honour.” Yusuf raises an eyebrow as Nicolò’s hands stop fluttering indecisively and attack a decanter of richly coloured liquid. He declines with a shake of his head when Nicolò holds the thing up Yusuf’s way, eyes expressing how reluctant the gesture is, and watches him pour a generous glass for himself to nurse when he throws himself onto the room’s sofa to sulk. Child. “Or was I mistaken?” </p><p>“Firstly, don’t think I am in any way pleased about this-”</p><p>“Of that there can be no doubt.”</p><p>“-<em> and</em> <em>se</em><em>condly</em>, what the hell do you even plan on using my company for? It’s not as though you <em> enjoy </em>it. An entire night, even though the alternative is…” Nicolò gestures vaguely out towards the ballroom and they both shudder in tandem. “Well. And we aren’t going to be dancing the night away, that much is clear. What remains?”</p><p>Yusuf shrugs, clicking the door shut and loping across the room to lounge down on the armchair opposite Nicolò’s sofa. He eyes Nicolò, paying particularly close attention to the way his throat moves as he sips his drink. </p><p>An idea pushes its way forward in his mind. It is far from a <em> good </em> one, but appealing in its naughtiness. The likelihood of it coming to fruition is small at best and more realistically minute, but tonight has already been full of surprises and Yusuf is a man to push his luck when it is with him. “Well,” Yusuf begins, shifting to get more comfortable. He lets his palm drift to his thigh, twitching on his breeches to tug them more comfortably up. </p><p>Nicolò’s eyes follow the movement for the briefest of moments and the idea purrs happily, tugging on Yusuf’s attention with a ‘see? See?!’ Even then he doesn't believe it possible. Nicolò has already shared his very strong opinions on such things... But nothing ventured; nothing gained.</p><p>“Well?” Nicolò asks, altogether too breathy to sound waspish. He hides behind his glass, brilliant gemstone eyes cutting across the edge of the crystal that holds barely a candle to them. “Well what? I don’t have all night.”</p><p>“Au contraire, my prize. You very much do.”</p><p>“Just get on with it, Yusuf. What do you want from me?”</p><p>It’s the perfect opening, so what else is Yusuf to do but lean forwards on his knees and scrape his teeth over his bottom lip, staring at the man he has long since desired in his bed, however that miracle might come to pass. He almost waits too long and Nicolò opens his mouth to snap again but Yusuf heads him off. </p><p>“I want you to get on your knees in those fancy white trousers of yours and suck my cock.” </p><p>It isn’t the utter silence that follows that declaration that surprises Yusuf. No - he’d expected that. In fact he’d expected Nicolò to laugh him off, or shout and seethe and run away, which would have been more than enough of a victory for Yusuf to content himself with. So that is not what surprises him. </p><p>What surprises him is the way Nicolò slowly finishes his glass, maintaining eye contact all the while, and then carefully sets it aside; stands up from his sofa; <em> locks the door</em>; and falls in an elegant, kneeling heap on the floor between Yusuf’s legs. </p><p>“Well?” he parrots in the roughest voice Yusuf has ever heard from the man, expression set in brilliant, blazing, determined competition. “Shall we get started?”</p><p>Whatever higher power has aligned to grant him this tonight; Yusuf is not about to question his gift. </p><p>He grins.</p><p>"Oh, Nicolò. No need to rush now. As we've established; we have <em>all night</em>..."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Picking up directly after the end of Chapter 1 - We find Nicolò on his knees and the door firmly locked, ready to start the evening's delights with a little lesson.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Realised I had this written and there was no reason not to share it out! It isn't as long as it could be but the scene ended very naturally here :)</p><p>Oh and this is where it turns explicit, folks, strap in...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>“I had not imagined…”</p><p>“That I would agree?” Nicolò asks archly, <em> from his knees</em>. That’s still a little surprising, even to him. He lifts his chin defensively and Yusuf holds up his hands. </p><p>“Well, yes! Quite! I thought your little speech earlier reaffirmed just how protective you are of your virtue.”</p><p>Nicolò sighs, rolling his eyes, but it is a good point. It’s not as though he had expected to be discussing the finer details of his moral stance on premarital sex tonight but if needs must… “It is not my virtue I am concerned with, it is my heart,” he explains simply, trying to keep his voice level and disdainful so the vulnerability of the answer is concealed. “I would not hurt myself nor my future spouse with regrets and lost attachments. But at least with you there is no risk of developing any affection between us, and you seem so very fond of such activities… Much as you are despicable to me, I will admit you have good taste, perhaps there is something I am missing. Of everyone, you are the only one I would explore it with.”</p><p>“Because you despise me.” </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And I despise you.”</p><p>“Precisely.”</p><p>“So we will not fall in love with each other.” </p><p>Nicolò balks. “Love? I had not even mentioned love.”</p><p>“You mean the thought of mere affection is enough to put you off?”</p><p>“Are you going to question my thought process when I am offering to suck your-” He gets most of the way through the bold sentence before choking on the obscene word, colouring in a furious blush. Yusuf sits upright with renewed interest, leaning over to cup his jaw and rub a thumb over his flaming hot cheek. </p><p>“Not if you’re going to sit there looking like that I’m not. What a blush, Nicolò. Pretty on your cheeks. But missing something… Another colour to contrast.” </p><p>“What?” Nicolò asks, thoroughly confused. Yusuf just smirks and sets to work on his breeches, plucking the laces loose in moments, deft-handed at it. He shoves them apart enough to attack the lower layer and then he’s pulling out-  he’s right <em> there</em>- Nicolò chokes again and can’t quite look at it, sure he must be red as a rose by now. </p><p>Yusuf chuckles and takes hold of his face again and Nicolò carefully fixes his eyes on Yusuf’s when his head is turned back round. “So shy?” Yusuf teases him, thumb rubbing over his mouth. “You’ll have to look at it at some point, if you’re really insistent on doing this.”</p><p>The nerves have him biting his lips, and Yusuf groans softly, using his grip to draw Nicolò in closer again so he’s close by, and he is terribly aware of that proximity. He gazes up at Yusuf, eyebrows slightly pinched, catching his weight carefully on Yusuf’s knees. Even when Yusuf moves him closer and he feels the brush of first contact on his cheek of something hot and solid and just a bit wet. He can’t look away, but he does part his lips somewhat, entire attention focused on the shape in his peripheral vision as it slides closer. He wets his lips at exactly the wrong time, or perhaps the right time, tongue darting out and catching a hint of a taste he doesn’t know. </p><p>Yusuf groans so loudly Nicolò worries briefly about being caught, but remembers the locked door and the music and sets such concerns aside. </p><p>He has other matters to concentrate on. Such as Yusuf’s cock, nudging his bottom lip until he opens his mouth enough to let it slide in. Nicolò thinks that this would be a whole lot more difficult without Yusuf there to guide him, to lead his jaw forwards and to gently hold him in place, no further words said about the way Nicolò is desperately looking at him, face as red as ever. </p><p>“You paint such a pretty picture. I should’ve made this bet a long while ago…” Nicolò cannot reply, to Yusuf’s clear amusement. “Keep your teeth behind your lips, there, very good. You don’t need to go too far, just suck, a little-” another deafening groan splits the air. “<em>Just </em> like that Nicolò, dear heavens. Use your tongue, go on. It might taste a little odd but I promise it isn’t bad. Why don’t you just- Oh, you are a <em> natural</em>.”</p><p>Nicolò realises he hasn’t breathed in a while and tries, finding it easier than he’d expected. It lets him add a certain amount of pressure to the tip of Yusuf’s cock, carefully cradled on his tongue, and instead of a groan this time Yusuf gives him an entirely delicious whine, biting his lips hard and fluttering his grip on Nicolò’s jaw. It is heady, to have such control over this untamed man, finally finding the way to shut him up even in such a clear position of supplication. It encourages him to kneel up, pushing in closer to try and move his head like he’s heard is best. Not far, just an inch or so in and out. Yusuf once again helps him, and under Nicolò’s hands he can feel the tight tension of his legs, keeping still. </p><p>The other side-effect is his own growing interest, newly revealed when he kneels up, shifting his breeches tight over the front of his crotch. He huffs a soft sound and Yusuf gasps, left knee twitching. “Do that again. Nicolò I beg you.”</p><p>He hums, softly, and then louder. Yusuf at last lets go of his jaw. Nicolò feels, bizarrely, like he’s a child learning to ride, and the trainer has taken their hands off the reins for the first time. Though unlike before this particular stallion is a damn sight more considerate and charming. </p><p>Not that Yusuf is charming. </p><p>Only that he is more charming than an ornery horse. </p><p>Nicolò is getting distracted. </p><p>Yusuf groans, sliding a hand into his neatly combed hair - and messing it all up of course - to hold on while Nicolò eases himself into a shallow rhythm, trying to vary his simple movement with what Yusuf had asked; testing and teasing with his tongue and varying the pressure of his mouth. He notes that Yusuf whines especially high in his throat when he presses the head of his cock up against the roof of his mouth and really sucks, almost swallowing. The taste is, as the other man had said, not entirely bad, and at the very least it proves he can probably trust Yusuf’s lead in these matters, for whatever they do next. </p><p>Next? There shouldn’t be a next! </p><p>And yet. </p><p>Nicolò whines softly, eyebrows pinching. He wants to reach down and touch himself, unbearably hard in his uncomfortably tight trousers. It’s unfair that Yusuf looks so flushed and desperate, glistening with heat that promises a sweat could break out at any moment. He shifts, little noises and breaths escaping all the while, promising Nicolò that he is barrelling headfirst towards release. </p><p>“Nicolò, Nicolò let me finish on your cheeks, please, I want it desperately. I’ll help you clean it, only let me see it on that pretty pink,” Yusuf begs in a babble entirely unlike his usual eloquence. Nicolò thinks that at least that avoids the question of him having to deal with the spend in his mouth, which he is still somewhat leery of. It just seems unpleasant somehow, although he’s willing to trust Yusuf if he proclaims it bearable. But this option is better, far better. </p><p>He makes as agreeable a sound as he can with the cock in his mouth, lets Yusuf lead him by the hair into a faster rhythm, and closes his eyes at last when that same hand pulls him back. </p><p>The hot splatter on his already hot face should not be arousing but his hips twitch wildly and he squirms, desperate for his own finish all of a sudden. It lands on his face, smudged into his cheeks and the bridge of his nose by Yusuf’s final few thrusts forwards, until the man in the armchair finally slumps back, letting go of him. </p><p>Nicolò opens his eyes cautiously. </p><p>Yusuf is a sight, sprawled like Zeus on the chair, cock out and slowly beginning to soften. He groans like he’s been stabbed when they make eye contact and Nicolò only blushes all the more to know why - that it is Yusuf’s spend on his face that elicits such a reaction. He should feel debased but he only feels… desirable. And smug, to some extent. </p><p>And a little sticky, but when he lifts his sleeve to wipe it off Yusuf moves fast, striking like a snake to stop him. He pulls, tugging Nicolò up and up until he has to climb bodily over his lap, nearly kneeing the poor man in his exposed delicates as he finds the right position to settle comfortably on his thighs, knees squashed between Yusuf’s hips and the arms of the chair. And then Yusuf, dastardly creature that he is, touches his fingers to Nicolò’s dirtied skin and smears, swiping the mess around until he wrinkles his nose from the feeling. “Not a fan?” Yusuf asks, grin full of tease. Nicolò rolls his eyes and shrugs a shoulder, because no. But also; <em> not </em> no. It’s a confusing and intricate feeling that he doesn’t quite understand yet. More experimenting is needed. “How about if I do this-?” </p><p>The tongue that laves up his cheek is hot and wet and ends with a gentle suction, cleaning him up. It should be as unpleasant as the stickiness but instead Nicolò groans, rocking forwards unconsciously with desire as Yusuf licks and kisses himself off Nicolò. He removes a drop awfully close to Nicolò’s mouth and then pulls back a few inches, enough for them to look at each other, equally frozen. Yusuf tilts his head ever so slightly, a silent question. Nicolò shakes his head minutely before he’s thought about it too hard and Yusuf understands, falling back against the high back of the chair once more, his hands settling at Nicolò’s waist. </p><p>“I suppose you want to do something about that now, too?” he rasps, nodding his chin towards Nicolò’s own interest. “How do you want to deal with it?”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Yes,” Yusuf grins lazily. “What do you want, Nicolò? We have all night to introduce you to the dark delights of carnal pleasure. The whole menu is available, more or less.”</p><p>“The whole menu?” Nicolò echoes faintly. </p><p>Yusuf just keeps grinning.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>